Season of the Sticks

I’ve been a sucker for singer-songwriters ever since in fell in love with Carole King as a teenager in the seventies.  It’s a long story but the short version is that “she spoke to me.” 

Not literally but with her words.  Meaning when you’re so lonely inside that you fear no one will like you once they discover the real you, a song like You’ve Got A Friend means everything.

You just call out my name, And you know wherever I am,

I’ll come running to see you again,

Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall,  All you have to do is call,

And I’ll be there,

You’ve Got A Friend….

If you wonder why so many of us deep down sensitive baby boomers prefer a call to a text, well, that pretty much says it all.

I mean, all you have to do is text just isn’t quite the same thing.

Reba knows

In any event, for me these days there’s a different kind of fear and loneliness.  One that’s difficult to describe except to say it’s a feeling of being let down by so many of the people I came of age with in a country I thought I knew but don’t know at all.  

It would be easy to make this merely political but it occurred to me this weekend that it’s not.  There’s a callow self-centeredness permeating the air, determined to change the norm of what’s right and wrong.  A shifting back in time to what is moral and acceptable, sometimes to the 1950s and, other times, to the 1850s.

This cartoon is from… 1908 #notkidding

A societal, redefinition to the alt right where the media actually indulges in rational discussions (Note: That is if we’re lucky) on whether it’s okay to snatch people as young as two years old out of their schools, their streets or even their beds in the dead of night and fly them to a foreign gulag in a country they’ve never been to without a hearing, much less a trial. 

A time where it’s okay to openly shout at or discriminate against people with a different skin color, gender preference or even income, insultingly and/or at the top of your lungs, and even use a nasty pejorative word about their ‘kind” (Note: And by “kind” substitute the word for a particular group you’d have seldom heard implied, much less said out loud in public 10 years ago) as they do so. 

Without a doubt

A place where those in authority promote the Christian Bible and the virtues and obligations of parenthood while dismissing anyone decidedly non-religious, or atheist, or voluntarily childless as lacking a strong moral compass, selfish or simply immoral.

Listen, this is not the language of my friends and family.  But it IS what is becoming the language of our country.  Questions are being posed in the public square to which the vast majority of American know the answer to.

Two letters

NO – it is not right to snatch people off the streets, without a trial, never to be heard from again.

NO – you don’t have to be a Christian or have/raise a child to be a moral, loving, worthwhile, contributing member of society.

And NO – it’s not okay to be racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, ethnic phobic or, ______________. (Note: Fill in the blank because you truly do know the rest of the categories).

Yet somehow, in some fashion, this is all on the table again and up for discussion.

American voters = Dory

In my random 3:00 am nights awake I wonder, Is bringing slavery back, next?  In my mind’s eye I can actually hear some of those voices arguing, It depends on the circumstances.  Why can’t we at least debate it?

Lately, I’ve come to realize that in the last few weeks, okay months, I once again find myself turning to another singer-songwriter to get me through.  This time it’s 28-year-old Noah Kahan, a Grammy-nominated folk-pop performer from Vermont who plays guitar, banjo and mandolin, sounds like a cross between Paul Simon and Cat Stevens (Note: He cities them as two of his big inspirations) and has dealt with mental health issues since he was a kid – so much so that he used funds from his success to establish The Busyhead Project, a mental health initiative that provides information and resources to end the stigma around mental health.

Bonus: Good hair

I didn’t know the latter before I started listening to him.  I just gravitated to his music and his words.  But in retrospect it all makes sense.  Who better to help you when you’re feeling rather hopelessly disoriented than someone who has been dealing with those feelings most of their life?  It made even more sense when I began watching videos of him performing.  He reminded me of the type of burly straight guy who was kind to me in my younger years.  The sort of mostly silent fellow who’d actually exchange a few words with me if we were at a party or some dumb function, and then ask me a question or two about myself and actually listen to the answer. 

His song Stick Season, which is also the title of his breakthrough 2022 album, derives its title from that time in New England when the leaves have fallen and the trees are bare but the snow has not yet arrived.  Again, it makes sense I’d be listening to this over and over again as I drive through the hills of sunny L.A. since in my view we are awaiting some great societal snow to wash away a kind of cold ,chilly creepiness threatening our land.

Or perhaps that’s just me liking flowery, melodramatic metaphors. (Note: Perhaps?)

It’s kind of exactly what the Mamas and Papas sang about… but without all the California dreamin’

In any event, in Stick Season, Noah writes about a relationship he’s sort of in during a transitional period in his life. 

…And I’ll dream each night of some version of you
That I might not have, but I did not lose
Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes
And I’m split in half, but that’ll have to do

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad
That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad
No, I am no longer funny, ’cause I miss the way you laugh
You once called me forever, now you still can’t call me back.

And I love Vermont, but it’s the season of the sticks….

Make of the meaning of the song what you will.

All of ’em

It could be a relationship with a girlfriend.

But it might also be one with a boyfriend.

Or even an old friend, lover or family member. 

Someone or something that’s been in your life forever but you feel you’ve never known. 

Like your country.

Noah Kahan – “Stick Season”

The New Journalism

I’ve wanted to have a weekly column since I was in my late teens.  Now, of course, anyone can have one. 

Your own free blog through, ahem, WordPress.  A self-written Substack of your own fact-based or fictional stuff with a minimum paywall.  Or an ongoing spot on an existing website which you contribute to for nothing or for which you are very, very, VERY seriously underpaid.

I’M FINE

I’m not sure if a continuing stream of your own TikTok videos or Instagram posts counts as your own column but in the world of 21st century “journalism” I suppose it has to. I don’t say this as begrudgingly as it sounds because I occasionally watch them and find some of them amusing.  But, yikes, there is sooooooooooo much stream of consciousness stuff by nitwits or morons or fringe characters looking to insight anger, an argument or a riot by any rational human being.

Much like our current POTUS. 

Hail the the Chief

Except he does it live from the White House and it gets picked up by not only every social media platform, but all the major networks and newspaper outlets. It might not cost us money to watch them, but rest assured we pay.

As his exorbitant tariff plan for pretty much every country went into effect last week (Note: 25-125% for foreign goods, which is pretty much most of everything the way manufacturing works in the modern era), he caused the stock market to crash by almost 20% (Note: Dropping our worth by $6 trillion), only to then bounce back to three-quarters its worth, and then go back down again – only to partially recover once more – but not before it shook up the bond market.

Me looking at my 401K

No, I didn’t know what that meant either.  Though after some basic reading (Note: Imagine that!) I learned it meant that big world investors, who often dump their excess money in things like the sure thing treasury bonds of the United States for safe keeping, were spooked.  Meaning the international financial world no longer sees the U.S. as stable – aka a sure bet for almost a century – which in turn means any real faith the rest of the world economy has in us as a reliable “safe place” in the future is cratering.  Fast.

The Great Orange One vamped that this was all his plan all along to the TV cameras and in front of preening White House aides and hand-picked members of the press, and that he only modified because a few naysayers began to get “yippy.”

Yippy?   #CallingDrMarty

There is no bottom anymore

Even though when he announced the deal he said he’d never modify it.

Of course, we have all of this on tape from a few days ago but that was forgotten as quickly as yesterday’s Truth Social post and replaced with talk about being “nimble.” And, in the next few days, by messaging from his minions, who kept repeating “the art of the deal, the art of the deal,” “the art of the deal.” 

The messaging was supposed to bolster his expertise on dealmaking by using the 1980s bestseller he supposedly authored.  But everyone except his voters seem to know journalist Tony Schwartz famously wrote The Art of the Deal AND coined the phrase, figuring out a way to package the Orange One’s tangents into something vaguely coherent.  Not only did Trump never pen a word of it but Schwartz has publicly stated numerous times that he isn’t to this day convinced that he’s ever read it.

The cult is real

Speaking of reliving the past, the Oval Office talk continued for what seemed like forever with a series of softball questions and rambling word salad answers where he went on to wax nostalgic on his first presidency, claiming the stock market was at an all-time high when he left in 2020 and the country was in the best shape it’s ever been.

Except, well, I was there and so were you. 

It wasn’t

And I don’t know about you, but my 401K was way, way, waaaay down, and the country was still reeling and masked (Note: Okay, we in the blue states were) from Covid.

Again, I know because I was there and so were you….   

Thousands of people were dead in its wake, many more businesses were bankrupted and Trump himself came close to death, likely due to his refusal to wear a mask.  And then the uniquely-rare treatment he was given of monoclonal antibodies.  (Note: The treatment was approved for him by Dr. Peter Stein, the director of New Drugs at the FDA, who the DOGE bros just fired).

Duh Chairy

Yes, Covid happened.  This isn’t a senior citizen golf tournament where you ask for and receive a gimme because you own the course.

And yes, I’m a partisan, but facts, real facts, don’t lie. 

The only time facts lie are when they are alternative facts.

In other words, lies. 

Lies go unchallenged in the zeitgeist these days because there is little real journalism that is read by a majority of voters in the country.  Sure, there is lots to be read, and watched, and listened to.  But it’s become niche.  Networks for niche political points of view.   Some real newspapers but they were years ago branded as “fake news” by the Orange One and, in turn, by MAGA voters.

Apple products circa 2016

So mostly it’s HIS word.  And, if rating numbers and polls of MAGA voters are to believed, it’s far, far right (Note: Formerly fringe) podcasts and blogs and social media posts.  Many non-factual and often written by conspiracy theorists like Laura Loomer, a 9/11 truther who now advises and travels with the president and recently recommended the firing of several key and accomplished members of his National Security Council because of disloyalties she imagines in her mind.

Let’s not even get started with the guy who runs the Health and Human Services Department that finds vaccines suspect.   After two young children died of measles in Texas, he went on Fox News and touted medically unproven alternate treatments by two doctors he called “extraordinary healers” , one of whom was seen on a news report in his own Texas clinic treating a child when he himself was recovering from full blown measles, acknowledging the remaining measles spots on his head to an offscreen reporter, and confessing he was “achy” yesterday but today was just a bit tired. 

How bout some tannis root next?

Now I take vitamins and believe in free speech as much as the next American – and these days likely more so.  But with our niche media landscape, when anyone can be widely read or widely seen, we are in the midst of a real catastrophe.  See,  here’s the real problem for me:

I grew up reading people like Jimmy Breslin, Nora Ephron and Fran Lebowitz in publications like the Daily News, New York Magazine and Andy Warhol’s Interview and there was a personal nature to their writing that hooked me.  Breslin covered politics and related human interest stories.  Ephron talked about social issues, entertainment, food and behind-the-scenes power struggles.  Fran Lebowitz would mostly give humorously snide opinions on pretty much anything and anyone. 

They were all columnists but they all also wrote best-selling books that were considered a type of new journalism that was opinion-based but, at its root, relied on F.A.C.T.S.

Sing it Edith

Love them or hate them these were learned people.  I don’t even mean they were all college graduates.  I mean they were smart and savvy and thoughtful. Meaning they did research, spoke to people, observed all kinds of things, gathered facts from all corners and then filtered it all through their own point of view. It might have been opinion but it was informed opinion.  Not made up sh-t looking for a result.

I loved the 1970s – the writing, the singer-songwriters (Note: Long live Carole King, James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon, Cat Stevens and all the people I’m leaving out), even the fashion (Note: I soo miss my platforms shoes!). 

But it wasn’t all great.  Far from it.

Yes, some of it was tragic

In the first half we had Richard Nixon and his group of corrupt clowns lying and cheating their way through the White House.  When he was running for the presidency, Nixon went behind the scenes and derailed a pending peace deal in Vietnam brokered by a Democratic president, promising them they’d soon get something better from him if they backed off since he was likely to soon get elected to the presidency (Note: The latter especially if they backed off and didn’t give the Democrats a deal.  Which they did.)

This cost the lives of thousands of young American men, not to mention national and international respect once the facts of the Watergate break-in and the various lies told to protect him, and by him, finally surfaced.

And they only surfaced because the independently owned Washington Post – and two reporters they employed named Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein – doggedly reported on the corruption for years, with the stoic solid backing of the place that published the vetted, fact-based stories – at the time deemed treasonous by the far right –  they were writing.

Bonus: 70s hair!

Amazon’s billionaire Jeff Bezos now owns The Washington Post.  He might still be reporting news but after meeting with Trump and publicly contributing $1,000,000 to his inauguration fund, he’s not looking for the next Woodward and Bernstein.  Meaning what?  He soft caters to him, already changing his plaything’s, I mean paper’s, editorial page to reflect a “healthy diversity of opinion and argument” that precipitated the loss of many of its most prestigious lead editors and columnists who value the latter more than anything. Mark Zuckerberg, owner of Instagram and Facebook, made a similar contribution and analogous pronouncements – e.g. ending “fact-checking” – that reflects the same point of view.  We won’t even discuss the purchase of Twitter by Elon Musk, it’s conversion to “X” and his conversion to a chain-saw wielding, Nazi saluting cheesehead.

I could go on.

But please don’t

But suffice it to say, none of them have any interest in Breslin, Ephron, Lebowitz or anyone else of their ilk or pedigree.

What they seem preoccupied with is personal power and prosperity through any means necessary.  The freedom to do what they want, when they want and to whomever they want.  Unchecked and untethered.

Much like everyone else who continues to turn away from the obvious facts that are unfolding in our nation’s Capital right before our eyes.

The Ratliffs did it best

Not to mention the man behind the MAGA curtain who’s supposedly running the whole show.

But please, pay no real attention to him.

Bob Dylan – “Blowin’ in the Wind”